


Shadows and Sighs

by LittleBlackDragon



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:49:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlackDragon/pseuds/LittleBlackDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Cullen was killed at the Circle Tower and taken possession of by a Desire Demon, that eventually lost its memory of being a demon and took on Cullen's identity. However, those memories do not stay hidden. "Cullen" eventually learns of his true nature and flees the Inquisition. Distraught, Inquisitor Lavellan seeks to find what become of her dear Commander and finds herself and others travelling to Kinloch Hold, where she finds answers in the depths of the Fade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows and Sighs

The Dalish was beginning to worry about her Commander as of late. She had seen him less and less the past few days, and on the occasions she had, things were quite strange. It was difficult for him to look her in the eye, and sometimes his voice would get shaky, especially if the matter discussed was something personal. 

He affection was more restrained. When he would see her, at first he would have a warm smile, but something held him back, as if he was preventing himself from bursting with joy. And then he would become very stern. Perhaps even cold at times. 

She worried for him. Why was he acting so strangely? Surely she wasn’t the only one who could have noticed it surely? She knew at least a few people noticed his long periods of apparent absence. 

She sat at her desk, considering consulting a few trusted people on the matter, the other advisors in particular. Or, that would have been the case if a messenger hadn’t come, frantically beating on her door.

"Inquisitor Lavellan! Inquisitor, I have an urgent matter!"

Magdalene let him in immediately, her brow furrowed.

"What’s wrong? What’s happened?"

"It’s the Commander! He’s gone and vanished!"

Magdalene frowned.

"What do you mean he’s gone!?"

"He was supposed to have a meeting with Seeker Pentaghast and has not appeared. Someone was sent to fetch him, and we’ve yet to find him."

"I…I see…"

"You haven’t seen him, have you, Inquisitor?"

She shook her head.

"No, not since yesterday."

She looked down.

"I assume his office has been checked?"

"Yes, no sign of him."

She grabbed her cloak.

"Come on, I’ll help in the search."

She followed the messenger as he told her all the places that were checked. And what areas of Skyhold were still unsearched. The mage nodded and thanked him while she passed through the halls, deciding to make a second sweep of familiar places. Maybe if she did not find him, perhaps there at least might be a clue or two as to where he might have gone to. 

The mage hesitantly opened the door to his office, mouthing pleading words with her pale lips to her gods that he might not have truly vanished. No, do not take him from us, she whispered. Do not take him from her.

Her eyes darted across the scene of the room, most things in perfect order as usual, save for several papers strewn about his desk that seemed to flow down to the floor. Reflected in their dark violet hue was a torn letter, the start of address to someone, the coherency of it obscured by ink blots and streaks and tears. 

The wooden floor creaked under the weight of the lithe elf more than usual, only adding to her growing anxiety. She felt the urge to run her fingers through her mess of dusted black hair. 

She started filing through the papers. Formal reports, letters from family, but nothing appeared to stand out save for a few similar sheets like the first she found. Signs of a struggle to form a thought, to bring words to life. 

"No, no…" 

She took a deep breath to try and compose herself. It wasn’t time for tears. Not yet.

She looked over to the latter. She had not yet seen where he slept, and she at first felt a bit cautious. Magdalene started to stand up and walk towards the latter when foot caught on a piece of paper, something that floated to the tip of toe.

A sheet of paper, a single phrase.

Where it all began: Kinloch Hold, Calenh….

She picked the sheet up, looking it over several times. 

Calenh- a word incomplete, obscured by splattered ink. One thing did come to mind- Lake Calenhad.

She had left the door open, and as she studied intently she did not see the Spymaster enter. 

"Inquisitor?"

Magdalene turned around, her focus making her a bit startled by Leliana’s presence. 

"I suppose you are aware…"

"That the Commander is missing, yes. I’ve sent word to Scouts nearby, and some are still coming around Skyhold. I heard you started to search as well and came to find you."

Magdalene looked down at the sheet.

"I know that his office has been search before but…"

She handed the hooded woman the piece of paper.

"I found this."

Leliana eyes seemed to flicker a moment.

"Where?"

"It fell from the papers strewn about."

The Spymaster rolled up the sheet.

"I know what this speaks of. Kinloch Hold is a Circle of Magi in Fereldan, the one Cullen served in during the Blight."

Magdalene’s ears twitched.

"He hasn’t spoken much of it, says he preferred not to. You really think he ran off to a place that holds such a painful weight for him?"

Leliana nodded.

"Perhaps. If not, it is a lead to whatever trail he’s following."

The mage sighed.

"I see."

So, it seemed they had a destination. But would it be Cullen she found? Or something else? Either way, preparations needed to be made and there was work to be done. But she was determined to find out what happened to him.

…

Magdalene had taken a group of her trusted allies with her on the Trek to Kinloch Hold- Dorian, Cole, and Cassandra were at her side when they arrived at Lake Calenhad. They asked several locals, though all insisted they saw no sign of the Commander. 

The old Circle of Magi was almost deserted, having been abandoned due to the conflict between the mages and Templars. Only a few attendants and Circle loyalists of both sides remained. They were regretful to also say they had not heard or seen the former Templar.

However, they offered for the group to spend the night, and offered the four lodging for their trouble. Relatively clean and amenable quarters were provided. Though something felt ominous about the place. Perhaps it was simply the feeling something terrible had once happened there.

Cole felt it rather strongly, coming to the Inquisitor with his concerns just before the group was to retire for the evening.

"The air is heavy with pain, something stitched together and healing but the wound still seeps in places, drops of blood, of bad memories finding their way out, crying, gnashing of teeth, desperation and fear, all hope was lost if not for the help that came nearly too late…"

"You can feel the emotions? Of what happened here ten years ago?"

"Some of those who remain have been here since that time. But there are fragments of those before, they are fading, fleeting, but they have left their mark on this place, and it leave the walls between worlds thin and vulnerable."

Magdalene took a deep breath. 

"Do you sense Cullen here? Anything?"

"It’s all muddled…but I feel…something familiar, but it too is fleeting."

"I see…"

Cole tilted his head.

"Your usual brightness is dimming…"

Magdalene laughed hollowly.

"Yes."

"I hope that we find Cullen soon. He is softer than other Templars, kind, a friend. And he means a lot to people."

Magdalene nodded before Cole took his leave.

That night, she let her body fall with a hard thump on her bed, barely covered by her bedsheets, letting the night air touch the skin of her arms and legs not covered by her tunic. 

She tossed at turned, but found it difficult to find rest. Especially since what Cole told her indicated this was the place where the veil was thin, vulnerable to the appearance of Rifts. Though she had not see any since she had gotten there, strangely. But her eyelids did grow heavy, she rubbed the branch like markings on her face, staring into the near black of the room before sleep finally took her.

But it would not be rest that she would be finding.

…

There was green, the feeling of hard rock and water beneath her feet, and the feeling of soaked cloth against her skin. She awoke in a small pool surrounded by jagged rocks, only a single path lead from it. The floating masses of earth of the green around her, the strange eerie light. The Inquisitor found herself aware in the Fade.

She brushed droplets from her hair and tugged on her wet clothes as she stood to get her bearings. The cool water splashed against her bear legs as she heard a whisper carry to her ears.

"I am a lie, not even a shadow of something that once was…"

It was soft, she had to listen hard to make out the words. But there was no mistaking who the voice belonged to.

"Cullen?"

She stepped out of the pool onto the path, cautiously following it hoping to find an end.

"Maker, why…what am I?"

The whisper began to grow louder until it was no longer such. The Inquisitor continued to follow the winding path, finding she could see a figure in the distance. She advanced with caution, Cullen’s voice continuing to carry.

"It is better this way…"

"Cullen…"

The elf grew closer until she saw what appeared to be a towering mirror at the end of the path, covered by a grove of trees. She entered, keeping to the shadows at first. The Fade here seemed a little different, a strange amalgamation of the horror expected and the pleasant dreams of which Solas had often spoke. 

Occasionally subtle wisps of light seemed to dance around the mirror. It had a very alluring effect, perhaps urging her to come closer. She shook her head and reminded herself to stay alert. She was in the Fade after all.

And then she saw him. The dark fur of his pauldron, the burgundy cloth lined with gold that surrounded the layers of leather and metal that made his armor. The back of his head, blonde hair a mess but still recognizable as his.

"Cullen…!"

She wanted to rush out. But was this a trick? A trap?

She took a closer look at the figure resembling the man she loved.

He seemed to be looking directly into the mirror. He seemed completely oblivious to anything around him. She edged closer, seeing that something was being reflected back in the mirror.

Someone in full templar armor, she recognized. Maybe a bit rusted, maybe a little bulkier than what she was used to seeing when engaging the red templars in Orlais. Perhaps it was older?

A man about Cullen’s height stared back at him. His hair seemed to hair the beginnings of curls, and was a shade darker, but he had a similarity to him. Hazel eyes. the prickle of stubble across his chin. 

…Could this be…or…no it couldn’t…

Before she could finish her thought, the image flickered and distorted several times. The scene changed once- the man was then cowering behind magical barriers mouthing, pleading, crouched and weeping.

And again, only he lay on the floor, lifeless, with spiritual energy brimming around him like a swarm of fireflies. His body was warn from denial of necessities, his face twisted in agony.

But it was the third thing she saw, that horrified her.

The shadow of horns, of purple skin, or glowing eyes, a tail. It happened so fast before the other figure, once lifeless, began to rise and walk once more, the damage appearing to reverse. The horns appeared at shadows above his head before vanishing.

Creators, this…

Finally, the image settled, showing a exact reflecting of the Commander she had come to know. She found it hard to breathe at that moment.

Above his head, however, were the shadows of the horns, adorned with finery and decadence. 

"No..this is just a nightmare, that’s all this is, this can’t…"

She turned around to flee, but felt the tug of a branch that seemed to grow in order to wrap around her leg. She gathered energy in her hand, intended to burn it away so she could run. But the commotion was enough to bring attention in her direction.

The figure looking into the mirror began to turn. A pair of the dancing wisps approached his head, seeming to vanish before the shadow of horns in the mirror became real, a tangible trait, two constructs of bone jutting from his head. 

A pairing of eyes feel upon hers, dancing between violet, scarlet, and hazel.

"No…Magda…"

His voice was unstable, unable to contain his surprise, no, his utter disbelief. 

"Inquisitor…"

His voice grew dark, layered with something otherworldly.

"No, this is an illusion…a fake… I will NOT BE FOOLED BY MY OWN…"

"You don’t believe I’m real?"

Their gazes become locked. And then he saw the mixture of horror, of disbelief, of astonishment on her face. Of holding back a watery voice crying out. No illusion he produced would show him something so heartbreaking.

He turned away.

"Leave this place and forget me," he said as flatly as he could muster, his words cold but hiding something conflicted.

The vine seemed to loosen its grip, allowing her to wiggle free and get to her feet.

"I am the one who is not real."


End file.
